Quotes About Passion

I think about you all the time. I try to read, or brush my hair but all I think about is you. Sometimes I say your name over and over again, under my breath. No one can hear me, but I don't care. It just feels good to say it.

I had needed the animal warmth of the sex, had welcomed the familiar building heat of skin on skin, the harsh breath, the shudder that starts in your bones. The terrible urge afterwards to weep until I howled had been new.

Desire wrapped its arms around her and held her still, helpless, able only to breathe.

Her skin felt marvellously alive beneath mine. We moved back and forth, and my belly warmed, and I knew hers warmed, too, as we revolved around the gym and each other, a planet and each other, a planet and its satellite turning about the sun.

Wolf eyes," she whispered, and I could feel her breath on my throat, "so pale and hungry.

I kissed her, and stroked the soft planes of flank and thigh, teased with a fingertip and breath and gaze, and when she shuddered like a kite on a long line, when she began to whip and plunge, when she begged me, I turned her and steadied her and let her loose. It was always the same. They flew and I flew, but to different places.

A man was speaking intensely, passionately, with a strong accent, spattering words about him like matted glass. She closed her eyes. She didn't understand most of it-heresy, apostasy, Gehenna-but he seemed upset about something Eorpwald had done.

Bed games were one thing, keys another.

In the flickering ochre-and-gold light, Peretur saw the heat rise in Nimuë's cheeks, and her lips redder, and her own belly warmed, and she filled with another hunger.

She knew that scent, and her need rose like the tide.

His rookies had once been more than entries in a ledger, cogs in his cost-effectiveness machine. I tried to remember the last time I had seen him shout or laugh. I failed. Twenty years in the police force had killed everything, bit by bit: his ambition, thin his passion, then his wife.

She looked him in the eye, the eyes she'd seen wide with lust, not with tears, shining with joy.

She could have taken her sexual energy and smoothed it down, but she wanted to let it burn through her, she wanted to enjoy being alive.

Blood rushed sweet and hot under my skin and laughter bubbled up through me and I loosed it.

As she rode, her dreams filled with that yielding breast and warm breath and those luscious lips until she thought she might run mad.

Her lips were soft and plump as rain and Peretur wanted to plunge her hands deep into her golden yellow hair, deep under her skirts to the soft places beneath, and she could feel their hearts thundering like horss, like hoses yoked and racing together, pulling towards the same goal, beanth tearing in and out.

They reckon you feel love in your heart but that's bollocks. True love, the type what strikes you down and makes you change for ever, you feel that kind of love in every fucking organ inside you.

True love, the type that strikes you down and makes you change forever, you feel that kind of love in every f*****g organ inside you. Liver, kidneys, heart, and spleen. Every tiny cell what makes up your brain and your spine, your bones and blood and muscles. It keens through you.

What do I want to do with drawing? I want to draw Wonder Woman every day. That was the moment. It changed everything.

Quisiéramos no acariciar el cuerpo que amamos, sino ser la caricia.

The egalitarian passion is a perversion of the critical sense: atrophy of the faculty of discrimination.

Sólo de causas perdidas se puede ser partidario irrestricto.

Love is a transformation of the Erotic field, which occurs when there is an imbalance between its polarity... between the equal, we only copulate.

Love is a transformation of the Erotic field, which occurs when there is an imbalance between its polarity... between equals, we only copulate.